Something's Gotta Give
by The Original Gamer
Summary: Herein we have the awkward, and kind of poor as heck, Matt who somehow landed himself a job at the same private school that the sexy and spoiled Mello happens to attend. Not to mention, teaching his class. Drama and mischief shall definitely ensue.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So ended up removing my original version of this, _for some reason._  
I was going to rewrite it anyway, so whatever. For those of you who have already read the first chapter, you're going to want to go back and read again. Aside from the first eight hundred words or so, it's completely new material.  
And yes, I realize Mello's POV is not there. It will no longer be included in the story. I'm more comfortable writing from Matt's, and one sided stories are always so much more _fun _because they leave you guessing! o:  
So yeah, enjoy!

_Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters, nor am I trying to earn money via this story._

* * *

You know it's the start of a fantastic day when you wake up to find your entire kitchen completely devoid of anything even remotely edible. Nothing in the pantry, the cupboards, the refrigerator (well, there was an apple, but Matt was allergic and he wasn't hungry enough to suffer through a rash). On top of that was the fact that he'd fallen out of the bed this morning and had created a rather nasty lump on his head (thankfully hidden by his thick hair), the shower had run cold, his stove wouldn't turn on so he could make himself a pot of tea, his lighter wasn't working, and his roommate was nowhere in sight to help him with any of it.

"Fuck!" Matt swore loudly. For him, anyway. It wasn't quite a yell, more just a tad over an indoor-type voice. Still, it meant anger on his part. He glared at the empty fridge and his stomach gave a fierce growl. "Fuck." He repeated through grit teeth. This sucked! This more than sucked. This...it mega-sucked! Mega ultra sucked. This sucked so much it broke the scale of suckage. Broke it dead. _Brutally killed it. _ In his irritation, he kicked the fridge.

Only to end up yowling in pain, his swears echoing off the walls of his small flat. "God...god fucking dammit! Would you cut me some frigging slack? You bloody self-serving dickwipe!" Matt half snarled, half whined up at the ceiling. "Not bleeding likely, eh? Yeah...well, fuck you too." The young man flashed the ever loved two-finger salute towards his dirty, once white ceiling. Almost sulkily, he leaned against the kitchen counter, rubbing at his now sore foot.

He hadn't even gotten close to coaxing the pain out of said foot before an alarm on his phone went off. Yet another curse slipped passed his lips and he scrambled to pull the device out of his pocket. Six thirty. He needed to be heading off to the school, else he was going to be late. Being late to school on the first day had been enough of a crime when he'd actually attended, but this was a different story altogether.

Matt heaved a slight sigh, trying to will away the anxiety that ate at his stomach. It was even worse than the hunger. Tolerable though, at least enough that he made it towards the door, into his shoes, and out to his car without difficulty. His anxieties eased slightly at the sight of his baby. She was one of the few nice things he actually owned, and seeing her always made him unbelievably proud. To think he'd fixed her up from stuff he'd managed to salvage from the dump! He'd get better parts when he could afford them, of course, but for now he was satisfied.

"Morning, baby." His hand rested on the cherry red hood, stroking it lightly as he made his way around to the right side of the vehicle. "Let's hope no stupid kids end up hitting you, eh? I'll make sure to get us a good parking spot." He promised, slipping into the driver's seat. The car purred in what sounded like a happy fashion once it was started, and he smiled a bit.

It was a short drive from his flat to the school. Thankfully Matt's bad luck seemed to have faded, as no difficulties came across him for the entire drive. He was even humming some tune he'd heard on the radio as he stepped out of the car, giving the dash one more affectionate pat before slinging his bag over his shoulder. From behind sunglasses, he eyed the building. It was fairly large, and incredibly nice. Matt was surprised he'd even gotten this close to the place. Well...he certainly wouldn't have, without certain connections. He hadn't even wanted to apply for the job, but a certain someone had been insistent. He had never expected it to actually turn out for him, connections or not.

Now that it had become a reality, though, Matt was caught between nerves and relief. On one hand, this was an excellent opportunity. On the other, he could get kicked out easily for his less than perfect demeanor, looks, the likes, which would surely disappoint his once guardian. Even the way he spoke would be different, his accent a bit thick in comparison to the snooty types he was sure he would hear at this place. And now that he thought about it, he hadn't combed his hair that morning...or shaved! The light scratch of stubble met his fingers when he touched his cheek, and he bit back another swear. This was the perfect start to a first day at the school. How could it get any worse?

Holding back a sigh, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder. So his appearance wasn't perfect, it was alright. There were worse things that could happen. He could do this, and would get better at it eventually. Everyone had their days. The slight mental pep talk eased him enough that he took another step forward towards the building.

...And ended up nearly calf deep in a muddy puddle.

* * *

With a glare colder and more unpleasant than a witch's tit in a steel bra, his latest boss scrutinized him. He sheepishly took a seat in the chair before her desk. He figured it was deliberately uncomfortable, so she could watch her victims squirm. And that look? Oh, he knew that look. It was the "I already know you're the world's worst employee, you're screwed, strike whatever in however baseball analogies work" kind of look he had received a hundred times in the past. Needless to say, the environment simply urged him to squirm and a little discomforted shimmying in his seat could not be helped.

"Hello?" He ventured, question mark and all in his tone.

She looked unimpressed by his obvious subservience. Well, he'd tried. "You are aware that you have been handed," Like he didn't work for it. "a position in one of the country's best schools." Her hands came together on the desk and Matt noted she was not married. No surprise, with a glare like that.

She cleared her throat and he realized he had been staring, rather than responding. "Er. Yes...ma'am. I'm very aware." Trust me, he added mentally. He seriously wouldn't have been here without his connections.

"Mr. Wammy recommended you on the basis that you are highly skilled in languages." Speak of the devil. Or, the opposite, rather. He sent a mental apology to his previous guardian, for the misplaced idiom. "I was told that you lived in Spain for some time, is that correct?"

"Nearly six years, ma'am." She lifted a brow and he hastened to continue. "But I assure you, I speak more articulately than any kid. Wammy, or Mr. Wammy that is, made sure I received the proper nurturing for my, ah, skills."

He felt a rush of smug satisfaction at her expression of slight surprise. She resumed the boss mask before he could thoroughly enjoy the break, however. "You are close to Mr. Wammy, then?"

"One of his very own." He had long since learned how to play his cards in order to keep his job as long as possible. If the thoughtful flash in her eyes and the (forced, it seemed) upwards quirk of her lips was any indication, he would have the job for at least the next half-term.

Her head dipped in a quick nod. "Very well, Mr. Jeevas. Now, let's get to business." They hadn't already been doing that? "I meant to welcome," Intimidate. "you, but I seem to have gotten a tad distracted." She laughed and it kind of sounded like razor blades against a chalkboard. What he wouldn't give for a smoke right about now.

But nope. Paper. She was handing him paper. Lots of paper. Matt was tempted to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing double. Or tripe. Quadruple, even. Holy shit. That had to be an entire tree right there. She smiled, thin lipped with a suggestion of sharp teeth, like a crocodile. "This is your handbook, as well as the student's. You should familiarize yourself with both, as you will be both enforcing and following the rules I have created for this institution." That wasn't so bad. He was a fast reader, with a near perfect memory to boot. He could do that, easy. "Also, I'm going to need you to fill out some paperwork, standard information. For filing purposes." More teeth, less lips.

Matt couldn't help the groan that left him. "...Sorry, ma'am. Didn't have my caffeine this morning. Tea kettles are hard to heat up without a functioning stove."

Her smile grew tighter and he feared her face might crack and reveal the scales beneath. "There's coffee in the teacher's lounge. I'll take you once we're done here."

"Brill."

* * *

What felt like an hour later, he was free from the snake's burrow. Not, however, from her clutches as she had taken it upon herself to give him a tour of her beloved school.

It was basically frigging huge.

She had told him the population was small, the student body elite to the highest degree. So what the bloody hell did they need with all this space? From the looks of it, there were enough spare classrooms for him to live in one and have a personal kitchen and bathroom! A room for his gaming systems, even. And if the pay was as nice as it was supposed to be...

She brought him back to reality, reminding him, subsequently, that this was not a realistic option and he was doomed to shitty apartment life, complete with the irritating roommate who drank too much. He shook his head, while she droned on about generous donations and expansions to give the children the environment they needed. In properly her most patronizing tone, she made the remark that surely he remembered high school and would have loved to be in this environment.

_Not that young, lady. _Of course, he bit his tongue against this statement. "I was home-schooled, actually."

Which...put a close on that conversation, much to his relief. It also seemed to punctuate the end of the tour, as she suddenly stopped.

The crocodile grin was back as her slim hand rested on the doorknob (crystal, he thought) to one of the classrooms. "Your schedule an Señora Haggardey's previous lesson plans are on the desk. Good luck, Mr. Jeevas." With that, she pushed open the door, making a grand sweep of her free hand to gesture him inside.

The click of her heels as she strode away felt far too ominous.

Swallowing, he stepped into the classroom. Eleven sets of eyes turned his way and almost immediately a chorus of loud whispers rose in the room.

_New student._

_Why is he wearing sunglasses?_

_His shirt isn't tucked in properly._

_Wow, he's cute._

_Kinda on the short side._

_Is that stubble?_

_His tie is crooked._

_Jeez, what a slob._

_You think he's hungover?_

_New kid thinks he's tough shit, being late._

In fact, the only teenager that didn't seem to be joining in on the cacophony of poorly whispered gossip was a lean blonde sitting in a desk somehow simultaneously lazily and with perfect posture. Matt held his gaze a moment and felt another rush of satisfaction at the hint of surprise in those cool gray eyes as he dropped his bag on the teacher's desk.

"_Actualmente_," He turned to grab a pen from off the ledge of the whiteboard, writing his name across it. "_Soy su nuevo maestro._"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So this chapter is sort of like a filler. It's meant to give more a feel for the environment.  
I _promise _there will be more interaction between Mello and Matt next chapter. Lots more.

* * *

They were vultures, the lot of them. That was his immediate decision, anyway. Manicured little preppy vultures wearing ties and crisp shirts. They would eat him alive, if given the chance. Even with his back turned, he could tell they were staring, calculating. Still whispering, though more quietly now. He couldn't even make out the words, and that worried him slightly.

He had never had reason to be scared of a bunch of teenagers before, even when he was one himself.

Sucking in a deep breath (and wishing he had a cigarette to go along with it), he turned to face them, trying for his best adult look. Judging by their expressions, it didn't work. Oh well. "Matt Jeevas, at your service. You can call me Jeevas, you can call me sir, or_ señor_ as it were, but you will not call me Matt and it's an instant_ efe_ if you call me Matty, capiche?"

"I don't believe that was Spanish, Jeevas. This is a _Spanish _class. Not Italian." The comment came from none other than the steely eyed blonde who had caught his gaze before. He raised a brow and didn't hesitate to respond in the same nonchalant tone with which the kid himself had spoken._  
_

"Actually, it's a slang term_ derived_ from the Italian word 'capisci', which is generally asked as a question. The reply usually is 'capisco'." Thin shoulder lifted in a shrug and he barely refrained from smirking at the fierce look he received in return. Kid shouldn't be starting games if he didn't want to play along. "But, you have a point. This is Spanish class. So instead of 'capisco', what would we say?"

A hand at the opposite end of the room shot up like lightening. His gaze flickered towards it automatically, taking in the sight of a particularly...yuppy looking girl with her blonde hair tucked neatly into pig tails. Matt ignored her, but mentally tucked her away in the list of kids to call on when the class got to that point of awkward silence. Right now, he was focused on another of his smart mouthed charges. "_Entiendo_." Came the response, quick and curt. Someone didn't like losing much. Not that Matt was aware he'd even been playing a game.

_"Bueno. Clase, repetid después del listillo."_ He found himself faced with a class full of blank stares and a few halfheartedly mumbled '_entiendo's_. Strike whatever in however stupid baseball analogies worked, indeed. He didn't let it get to him, though. He figured, like other predators, they could smell nervousness. Instead, he cleared his throat, making an upwards gesture with his hands. "_Repitid, clase._"

No dice.

Rather than the single word he was looking for, he got Pig Tails raising her hand, looking like a perfectly prim little lady. He was tempted to slouch in defiance of her impeccable posture. But that would be childish, and he was the adult here. _An adult. _"Yep?"

Her nose crinkled, but just a fraction. "I was wondering if you might be able to tell us what happened to Miss- that is, _señora_, Haggardey? She never once took a sick day, so it really is very rare for us to have a, ah, substitute. Particularly for an entire term. Assuming I understood you correctly and you will be teaching for the duration of the term?" Wow. He was pretty sure she didn't breathe once through all of that. Which...could not have been healthy.

He, by some miracle, refrained from making a remark on this. "I'm not really at liberty to say what happened to her." Translation: he had no bloody clue what happened and didn't care either way- it meant he got a job. Slim hands lifted defensively against the mutters that rose among the small class of teenagers. "Really, all I know is that I'll be here until the end of the semester. Meaning you lot and me? We need to be on good terms." He walked around his desk, sitting down on the front of it and letting his legs dangle lazily. Arms folded over his lean chest, he arched a brow at the kids before him- his new students. Who would have thought he'd be a teacher, anyway?

Apparently Wammy.

"Any questions?" Unsurprisingly, it was Pig Tails' hand that shot up in the air first. Without waiting for her to actually answer the question, Matt decided to rely on the skills of observation that had been hammered into his thick skull. "Yes, I am qualified for this teaching position," Sort of. "And yeah, I am old enough to be teaching here. Believe it or not, I'm twenty-three. Which, I know, seems ancient to you guys. But it also means I'm legally old enough to drink in the states. If, you know, I ever make it to the states. Which, considering my track record job-wise, I will not." He was getting that blank stare thing again, so Matt figured it was time to cut the rambling short. "Er. Long story short, I'm old enough and qualified to be teaching you."

"How did you-?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson." He got the feeling that the sniggers were more directed at him than in accordance with him. "You had this skeptical look on your face. Like, 'hey, this bloke is definitely pulling our legs'. Also, you were the one to whisper about me being a new student, so it isn't that far off to assume you're still under that impression."

The kids were growing restless at this point, although he wasn't sure it was because the idea of a new teacher to play with had lost its luster. Perhaps he had managed to impress them?

...Nah. Five years ago, he wouldn't say he was impressed very much by logical thinking. Hell, he still wasn't. He just like the looks on people's faces when he used it against them. "Any more questions?" Ah, right on the nose. Several hands shot up at this, not including Pig Tails', he was pleased to note. He didn't like nosy, know-it-all types anyway. Until they hid in bathrooms and lied about taking on a troll, anyway. But he was pretty sure that wasn't going to be happening here, castle-like as the institution was.

To his chagrin, he was answering questions nearly up to the bell.

Carrot Top wanted to know where he had gotten his higher education. He had dutifully provided the name of a small college in Winchester. He had been tempted to make up a college, but these kids were probably all about the after school prep so he figured he would be caught in his lie before he could finish his sentence. Oh well, it was a fun thought.

Wonder Cup (whose chest had to belong with the world wonders...granted it wasn't all silicon) asked where he had learned his Spanish. He was happier to answer this question, always pleased not to have to lie. It wasn't exactly a strong point of his, and one lie on top of the other might lead to them sniffing out his falsities. Plus, he'd already answered a form of this question earlier, so the words were right on his tongue. Six years and an education that nurtured his would-be multilingual side.

Twitchy (more fidgety than an ADHD kid post soda/candy/cake birthday bash grade binge) felt the need to ask who's dick he sucked to get the position, fresh out of college. The question didn't earn nearly as much laughter as his response of, "So _that's _why the principal seemed to register higher on the testosterone scales than me. I was wondering about the immediate sense of having my balls in a vice when I met her."

Fluttershy (too much time spent on the internet had introduced him to the ponies, and she surely resembled that one) was ever so kind as to oh so quietly ask what had made him want to teach. With this one, he was stuck a moment, sitting there like a slack-jawed idiot. "It...just came to me one day." In the form of Wammy insisting it would be good for him, and it was a favor for an old friend, and I'm worried about your social health, Matthew. Because social health was really a thing and not some bull Wammy had made up to guilt him into taking the job.

Insectica, a delightful girl with a wide, bugging gaze, decided to toss in the catalyst that would bring a quick end to the conversation. She, of all things, wished to know if he was married. Who was married at twenty-three? Who even had a steady relationship at twenty-three? He didn't even resist the urge to roll his eyes at the fact, knowing they wouldn't be able to see, with sunglasses firmly in place. His response had been brief, but more than enough to bring the class to silence for the remaining minutes before the bell rang.

"Are you telling me marriage is legal for queers now? Golly, I'll have to keep that in mind for when I do find that special someone."

Needless to say, the silence wasn't exactly what he would have called _comfortable_.

Nevertheless, he was greeted by a chorus of good bye's and even a few 'good luck with the rest of your day full of lazy, dull-eyed sloths in teenager's skin' type comments, although they were admittedly phrased a bit differently. He accepted them without letting the surprise, or much of anything, register in his expression, wishing them good bye in return and reminding himself to learn their names sometime in the future. He got the feeling he wasn't going to get away with the nicknames he had given them in his head.

He was about to sink into his desk when he noticed that one student was lingering behind. Not just one student, but Steel Eyes himself, taking his sweet time gathering his things. Matt watched him a moment, wondering if, having felt the glacial gaze fixed on him ever since his little 'logical guessing' stunt with Pig Tails, he had something to say. He found himself...almost eager to know what it was, and what most certainly was not disappointment hit him when, after fixing his bag neatly over his shoulder, the kid merely turned to head for the door.

He didn't initially leave. At least, not without making sure (how did he _do _that? Matt's shades were mirrored, so there was absolutely no way he could have seen where they were) eye contact with him first. "_Hasta luego, _Jeevas." His lips pulled up in a tight smirk and he strode out the door with swift, precise steps.

_Well._

* * *

_Bueno. Clase, repetid después del listillo - _Good. Class, repeat after the wise ass.

_Entiendo _- I understand.

I don't speak that much Spanish, personally, so if any of my translations are wrong, feel free to let me know! For now, I'm using Google Translate. orz


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **alskdjaf I'm not too happy with this chapter.  
And that's all there really is to say on the matter.

* * *

"I'm bored."

"You're always bored." Matt's bland tone was not due to a lack of sympathy- he was more familiar with boredom than most. Rather, it had to do with the fact that his words were quite literal, not the exaggeration they might have come across as. His roommate was in a constant state of boredom. He and boredom were true bosom buddies, through and through.

There was a groan from the other side of the room and Matt knew without looking up from his papers that the guy was doing that weird thing where he twisted himself into odd positions. He never questioned why he did it and was occasionally (and occasionally here means after he's ingested a couple of his roommates brownies) fascinated by it. It was like having his own personal freak show in his apartment.

"Wanna do something?"

Except he was needier and more irritating than a freak show could ever be.

"I'm working."

"Eeeh? It's Saturday! Work is for chumps, anyway. How booooooooring."

A sigh, eyes still somehow focused on the paper in his hands nonetheless. He made a red X through a use of _para _ where _por _was necessary. How hard was it to figure out the difference, anyway? He figured it had something to do with laziness, because kids, even those who attended elite private schools, could not be that stupid. Especially not at schools Wammy funded. "I'm well aware of that, thanks. Unfortunately the old hag had to kick it," he assumed, "before grading this paper she assigned them."

"Papers...in Spanish class?"

"AP Spanish Literature. Go figure, I'd be running the entire god forsaken department. Twenty three years old and I'm already doing the jobs of the elderly, minus the sweet pay and promise of retiring soon."

"Boring."

"Quite."

There was a moment of silence that bordered on awkward, but Matt had caused many an awkward silence in the past, thus was not phased. It was his roommate who was left squirming (literally) until, a good five minutes later, he decided to hand over a percentage of his attention once again. "Yo, Ryuk."

"Yep?" The gangly man perked up like a weird, disproportionate puppy, dark eyes fixed on Matt from where they were set into an upside down head. The guy was going to break the furniture if he continued to hang off it like that.

"If you can sit still for five minutes- three hundred entire seconds - I'll bring you to that bar downtown. My treat. And by that, I really mean you can drink until I'm out of cash. And please, no lady lumps in the apartment."

Five minutes of what Matt could easily consider an extreme show of self control later, they were out the door.

* * *

_Never make a bet you don't want to follow through with, mate._

A sigh that was not quite irritated spilled past his lips, causing a ripple in the alcohol within the cup he held to his mouth. There was as much of a barrier between him and the rest of the bar as there was between his eyes and the world. Ha! What he wouldn't give for a pair of shades that created more of a barrier than his did. Then he wouldn't have to deal with the occasional brave (and often horny) approach.

Even those within his small circle of…companions.

Before he could even figure out what was happening, he found himself with a girl on his arm, like a particularly hyperactive, Lolita-loving piece of arm-candy. Except, he wasn't interested in catching anyone's attention. Didn't she know that by now?

It took a lot of willpower not to shrink away with that what's he doing with her stares.

"Misa," He began slowly, gently. He'd learned to deal with her early on in her surprisingly long (however one-sided) relationship with Light - who, by the way, he only hung out with because the guy hung around L, pretentious prick he was. She, unfortunately, had taken a rather strong liking to him because of this and tended to treat him like one of those pooches people stuck in their purses. Needless to say, he was very glad he was not purse sized. "Kindly detach yourself from my arm, will you? How am I s'posed to pick up," Insert cringe here. "hotties with you hanging of me like this? You make me look way too straight, babe."

Misa giggled, but obligingly untangled himself from his arm. He refrained from rubbing the circulation back into it. "No one could make you look straight, Matty." She teased, pinching his cheek. Matt was thoroughly unsure whether this was a compliment or not, but decided not to comment on it. His wry comments usually confused her, anyway. "But I understand. You don't want to hang out with boring ol' Misa! You want to hang out with hotties like him."

His eyes followed her perfectly manicured finger, managing not to wince at the garish shade the nail was painted, and focused on the man she was pointing at.

He swore hearts must have popped up in his eyes, with how smug she was looking. Or…maybe a bit of drool was leaking past his lips? Fuck if he cared, he was too busy watching this guy. He was slim, but compact, tight muscles at work as he danced. He couldn't see his face- he had his back turned- but he had a perfect view of a brilliantly formed arse, clad in shiny, clinging leather. It was as if the very gods Matt didn't believe in had sculpted it to taunt gays, straights and even lesbians everywhere. His hips were a little rounder than was usual for a guy, but it suited him. The same way his long blonde hair, gleaming in the dim light of the bar and swishing with his every movement, suited him. He was on the edge of his seat now, trying to figure out what the hell he would possibly say to gorgeous personified, when he turned.

There was a distinct, tinkling crash as his glass slipped out of his fingers.

The bartender and Matt swore simultaneously, but he figured it was for different reasons. He sure as hell didn't care about the glass he had just dropped, or that it cost, according to the bartender's muttering, twenty bucks. Misa was kind enough to slap a twenty on the bar for him, offering apologies with big eyes and glossy lips. No surprise, the bartender was placated.

Matt wasn't focusing on this. His attention was drawn, rather, by the blonde currently staring at him, a smirk twisting the lips he had previously been imagining. Great. Great, now he was probably going to have wet dreams about his student. The back side of his student, but _nevertheless._

Quicker than he had probably ever moved before, he pulled out his wallet, yanking the cash out and shoving it at Misa. "This is for Ryuk. Tell him I…had my period or something and had to leave." Ryuk would believe that, right? At least, he'd get a laugh out of it. He liked to poke at Matt's masculinity. Misa stared after him with wide eyes as he brushed past her, aiming for a quick escape through the back exit…

Halfway there, long, thin fingers clamped onto his arm like a spidery vice. "Well, well, well, teach. I didn't expect to see you here." Matt reluctantly turned towards the voice, and was both irritated and surprised to find that the blonde was a good three inches taller than him in the heavy looking boots he wore. Simultaneously, he was struggling not to note how his tight black t-shirt displayed what he could only assume was a six-pack. Jesus.

It took him a moment to find his voice. "Well, well, well." He mocked, thrusting his chin up and squaring his shoulders in an attempt to make himself seem taller. There were plenty of students that were taller than him, but for some reason the fact that this particular one was…"Practicing to become a regular creep, Mr. Keehl? Can't say I approve, although admittedly it suits you."

Unsurprisingly, the kid rolled his eyes. He wasn't any more patient with his sarcasm than anyone else, it seemed. That was good to note. It meant he wasn't as perfect as he'd let everybody think. Then again…just being here meant he wasn't as perfect as everyone had been led to think! Why hadn't it occurred to him sooner?

"They call me Mello, actually." Mello, as it were, seemed unconcerned, merely inspecting his nails as Matt fixed him with an incredulous stare. Oh…right, the shades. He wouldn't even see it. Still, he should have been a little affected, having been caught by a teacher! "So, what brings you here, _Matt_." The way he said it, the name sounded like a taunt. He wasn't down with that- he liked his name and wouldn't have it soiled.

"I lost a bet." Trying his best to seem professional, he grabbed the kid by the back of his shirt. He tried not to think that Mello had to have been allowing the dragshovepushing that was currently going on. "And you shouldn't be here at all, kid. What are you thinking, walking into a bar and acting like you own the bloody place?"

Lean shoulders pulled up in a shrug and Matt bit his tongue to keep from cussing the bastard out. He wasn't usually an angry person! What was it about this guy? He shook his head, sucking in a deep breath. Before he could say anything else, Mello was cutting him off. "Who was that girl hanging off your arm? I was under the impression you were of a different persuasion."

He felt his cheeks color, thinking about how much he'd been persuaded by Mello just a few moments ago. Shit. "She's a friend of a friend. Trust me, I'm gayer than a gaggle of drag queens on twenty-first street in San Fran."

"So you cross dress as well?" A slender blonde brow rose, and the motion was so elegant it must have been practiced. What did these rich types do? Stand in the mirror and make faces at themselves for hours on end? No wonder their faces looked so pinched usually. "That's something I would pay to see."

Yep, his cheeks were definitely rising in temperature by the moment. Matt struggled not to snap at him. "No, I'm the regular kind of queer. No pantyhose for me, scout's honor." Not that he ever was a scout, but Mello didn't need to know that. It seemed like a straight guy kind of thing to say.

"And the significance of twenty-first street?"

Not for the first time, he was thankful for the ability to roll his eyes without the motion being seen. The rest of his expression was easy to keep composed. "There is no significance of twenty-first street. I don't even know if there _is _one. Quit tearing apart my metaphor."

The kid actually had the audacity to snerk at him. "I believe you mean simile, Mr. Jeevas."

"There's a reason I'm not an English teacher." It was harder than usual to keep the bite out of his tone, and Matt couldn't resist giving him a shove down the sidewalk with the hand that had still gripped at his shirt. "Get out of here, will you? Next time you won't get off so easily."

The blonde offered a smirk, wiggling his fingers in a wave. "I'll see you Monday," He might have snickered, but Matt wasn't really paying attention at this point. He was suddenly very thankful that Ryuk's boredom had landed them at a bar that night. He was in serious need of a drink.

Hopefully the bartender was still willing to serve him.


End file.
